


heal it or break it all apart

by adiwriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Arturo being the best dad in the world, Gen, Past Drug Addiction, Recovery, Self-Acceptance, minor alien blasting because Rosa is allowed to have feelings about her experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: All Rosa’s ever done is break things. Her entire life she’s destroyed everything she’s ever touched. So it’s really no surprise when she comes back that her powers do the same.Alternatively- 4 times somebody tries to get Rosa to seek help with her powers and one time she decides to help herself.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	heal it or break it all apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soberqueerinthewild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soberqueerinthewild/gifts).



> So this fic is a belated Christmas gift to the lovely soberqueerinthewild. Just because this is late, doesn't mean I love you any less. I'm grateful for the chance to step outside of my Michael comfort zone and write Rosa for a change. It was a challenge but a really enjoyable one. 
> 
> For the sake of this fic, we are just going to pretend that the necklace isn’t a thing. After all, if the RNM writers can handwave things in order to make a plot work, so can I. 
> 
> Finally, please excuse the Spanish in this fic. I have a VERY limited Spanish vocabulary and relied heavily on Google. If you see any inaccuracies feel free to point them out so I can fix them.

Rosa paces back and forth on the rooftop of the Crashdown, trying to get her emotions under control. The problem is, the more she tries to control them, the more out of control she feels. Which used to be awful. But now that she’s infused with that stupid alien protein that’s turned her into a damn taser, it’s hell. Actual living hell. 

She can hear the sound of people down below, all coming out of the shops and restaurants to investigate. Everyone wants to know what that loud sound was. What exactly caused the entire block to lose power. It makes her heart race and her skin crawl and she feels like everyone knows. Like any moment the door is going to bust open and a group of secret military police is going to drag her away for her crimes and she’ll be brought where nobody will ever find her. Maybe it’s what she deserves..

There are little kids crying because they are scared of the dark. The businesses are complaining about lost revenue. It makes her gut twist up painfully from the guilt of it all, only making the anxiety worse. Which is why she can’t stop crackling like a damn bowl of Rice Krispies. 

Maybe she should have let the stupid, smug Evans’ twins help her learn control. But she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t listen to Isobel spout off her stupid white suburban Karen nonsense. Not when she still so vividly remembers the feeling of her hand over her mouth, burning the life out of her. Rosa knows that it was Noah, but it doesn’t change the fact that being around her sends her mind directly into flight mode. 

And she certainly couldn’t handle being around Max. Just seeing his face reminds her of all the nightmares she had before they brought him back to life. She still doesn’t trust that he’s not dangerous after hearing him repeatedly tell her that he was. But Liz trusts him, so apparently that’s supposed to automatically mean all is forgiven. 

It’s bullshit. 

Even if Max isn’t as dangerous as he claimed to be in her nightmares… even if Isobel wasn’t the one who actually killed her… All three aliens had no problem loading her dead body into her car and letting the entire town think she killed Jasmine and Kate. Her death drove Liz away. It left her papi all alone to deal with the racist assholes in this town. And for that, Rosa can’t just forgive and forget. 

The door opens and Rosa jumps, expecting a stampede of military issue boots, but instead only hears the click of a pair of heels. She breathes a sigh of relief. Not that she’s in any mood to talk to Maria either, but it’s better than the military. And better than her papi. She doesn’t know what she would tell him. He still doesn’t know that she came back like this… that she came back  _ wrong _ . She wonders if he would still believe her return a gift from God if he knew that she had such evil inside of her. 

Maria stands in front of her, giving her a knowing look and Rosa just shakes her head. 

“Don’t,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear it. 

Maria goes to open her mouth but Rosa holds up her sizzling hand to stop her. “Seriously, Maria. Don’t.” 

Maria closes her mouth and moves to sit beside her, but not too close Rosa notices bitterly. Even she has to worry about Rosa’s powers going off and hurting somebody. She’s an actual danger to the people she loves and she hates it. 

Maybe stupid Max Evans should have spent more time warning her about the danger she would pose to her loved ones. Maybe he shouldn’t have ever brought her back. It’s not like she’s doing anything with her life anyway. He gave her this “gift” of life and she’s squandering it. 

Liz likes to remind her all about how lucky she is to be alive. Her papi likes to call her a miracle. But she honestly doesn’t know what the point is of being brought back to life if she can’t touch the people she loves without worrying that she’s going to short circuit and electrocute them. 

“You know who you should talk to,” Maria says and Rosa sends her a death glare. If she says Mind Control Barbie or Zombie Alien Jesus, Rosa may actually lose her shit. “Guerin.” 

“Your ex boyfriend Michael Guerin,” she says just to clarify, because surely, Maria cannot think that she’s such a mess that she needs the help of the town’s biggest hothead. 

“Yes,” she says, offering no further explanation. 

“Isn’t he almost as fucked up as me?” she asks in disbelief. 

“You are not fucked up,” Maria says gently, like she’s talking to some wild feral animal she’s scared of startling, and as much as it pisses Rosa off, she can’t do anything about it. After all, isn’t she wild and feral, especially with these new, unchecked powers? Before she’d died, she’d been out of control, but at least she hadn’t had the power of Greek gods in her hands. 

Rosa can’t help but snort. She’s very much fucked up, but it’s kind of Maria to pretend she isn’t. 

“Neither is he,” Maria continues. “He’s actually got more control over his powers than any of them.” 

Rosa gives her a doubtful look. 

“Michael Guerin,” she says, thinking Maria must be out of her mind. She thought she was over the guy, but maybe not if she’s still thinking he walks on water or something. 

“I think he’d understand you better than you think,” she says, reaching out tentatively and placing her hand on Rosa’s. Rosa yanks her hand away for fear of hurting her, but realizes quickly that her hands have finally stopped with the whole snap, crackle, pop. The touch feels good, helps remind her of what she’s fighting for. “Trust me.” 

“I trust you, it’s them I don’t trust,” Rosa argues. 

“I get that, I do,” Maria says, scooting closer so that their shoulders are touching. Rosa rests her head on Maria’s shoulder as Maria’s arm wraps around hers. “But you’ve tried this on your own and I think it might be time to ask for help.” 

Rosa glares at her. She’s never been great about asking for help. To ask for help means to put your heart out there for somebody to crush. And somebody always will crush it. People suck and they let you down every time. Rosa learned long ago to take care of herself. To do whatever necessary to cage her heart from the destruction that people cause.

And the aliens? Those bastards have done more than enough. 

“Not from them,” she says firmly. She’s not budging on this one. 

“Okay.” Maria doesn’t try to convince her otherwise, which Rosa appreciates. 

They sit there quietly, overlooking the town square. The power company has arrived by this point and is working to restore electricity to the block. Rosa listens to the discussions drift upwards with the wind, terrified that somebody is going to link the chaos to her. But nobody says anything about aliens. They just blame it on the moisture from melting snow. 

“How do you control your powers?” Rosa asks after several minutes of silence. 

Maria doesn’t respond right away, she takes time to think about the question first. 

“I’m not sure that I really do. Not yet anyways,” she says. “The visions still come out of nowhere most of the time.” 

“At least your powers don’t break things,” she says bitterly. 

“No, just my brain.” 

Instantly Rosa feels awful, knowing she stepped in something painful. She always does this. Lets her mouth get away from her brain and ends up poking at the things most painful for the people she loves. She never means to, but it doesn’t make it okay. 

Her hands itch for a bottle. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly. Because that’s something she’s working on. Not reacting to her feelings of shame by smashing things further, no matter how much she wants to. “I’m a total bitch. I wasn’t even thinking.” 

“It’s ok,” Maria tells her. She’s about to argue that it’s not, but Maria squeezes her arm to stop her and gives her a kind smile to show she’s not upset. “It’s ok.” 

The door opens and her papi comes out.

“Well they estimate it’ll be another few hours before we get the power back on,” he explains. Rosa nearly apologizes, but it’s not like she can tell her papi why she’s upset. “May as well eat some ice cream before it all melts, no?” 

She doesn’t tell him that she knows what he’s doing. That she sees through his attempts to make her feel better by plying her with food. Mostly because she doesn’t actually mind. If she can’t drink or smoke this night away, she can at least indulge in a sugar rush with two of her reasons to stay clean. Maybe it’ll help her avoid a relapse. 

****

Later that night, Rosa’s phone lights up with a call from Liz that has her rolling her eyes. 

“Maria told you,” she says into the phone, forgoing any proper greeting. Because of course Maria called her immediately upon leaving here to make sure Liz knew exactly how much of a screw up she is. 

“Told me what?” Liz asks, sounding confused, but Rosa isn’t sure if she can buy it. 

“That I blew out the power for a whole block.” 

Liz makes a surprised gasp and Rosa sighs. So clearly she didn’t know. And now that she does, Rosa is going to get a lecture. 

“Rosa…” Liz says with such pity that Rosa wants to throw something through the window. “Tenemos que resolver esto—” 

“Stop,” Rosa cuts her off before she can get going. “I’m not one of your damn science experiments, okay?” 

Few things annoy her more than when Liz gets that tone with her. Like she’s somehow responsible for Rosa. 

Rosa spent her entire life being the older sister. Taking care of Liz and protecting her from the world when their own mother was too loaded to do so. And sure, 10 years passed by for Liz, but not for her. She died the protector and woke up to her baby sister being 9 years older than her and acting like her mother. Well maybe not  _ her _ mother. Liz cares way too much about Rosa’s wellbeing to equate her to someone as selfish as Helena. But Liz acts like a mother. Like a mother is supposed to. It pisses her off. 

It’s annoying to be treated like a child by the kid you taught to tie her shoes. The girl whose tears you used to dry after every scraped knee and broken heart. Rosa is supposed to take care of Liz, not that she’s in any condition to do so. Liz has her life together and Rosa? She’s every bit the mess that she’s always been. Worse now that she’s got this stupid protein inside of her projecting all of her inner chaos outward. 

“Rosa,” Liz tries again but Rosa isn’t interested. 

“Don’t, okay?” she says, her tone a warning. She’ll take a knife to what remains of Liz’s wardrobe here if she doesn’t stop. And she won’t even feel guilty about it. Most of Liz’s clothes are boring anyways. The girl could use a new wardrobe with some more sass. 

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. Or worse—” 

“Somebody else?” she finishes for her with a bitter laugh. “I know. I’m a danger to everyone around me. I get it Liz. I don’t need a PhD to tell me that electricity coming out of my hands at inopportune moments is dangerous. I’m not stupid.” 

Liz sighs deeply in the way that means she thinks Rosa is being difficult. “My offer still stands. You can come out here whenever you want,” Liz says. “I’d love to have you here and I could help you.” 

“I don’t need help,” she snaps. 

She knows Liz’s offer is genuine and that she wouldn’t honestly mind Rosa living with her. But  _ Rosa _ would mind. She doesn’t want to bring chaos into Liz’s life when she’s just gotten away from all of the stupid alien nonsense. Liz is doing great in LA, Rosa doesn’t need to mess with that for her. If Rosa were a better person, she’d move away from everyone so that she couldn’t fuck with anyone’s life. Except, with no money and no job, she can’t even take care of herself. 

A real gift to society she is. Honestly, Max Evans should have just left her dead. 

“Everyone needs help sometimes, Rosa,” Liz says. 

“Yeah?” Rosa laughs. “When was the last time  _ you _ accepted help?” 

Liz sighs again. “I didn’t call to argue with you. I just wanted to check in and see how you and papi were doing.” 

“Papi’s fine,” she says. “Living in blissful ignorance of the secret nobody thinks he can handle. Goes to church daily to thank the big man in the sky for bringing his daughter back. Meanwhile, the actual man responsible for my miraculous return has been banned from the Crashdown for breaking your heart.” 

“Max didn’t break my heart,” Liz says defensively. 

“No?” Rosa barks out with a laugh. “Because you didn’t come home for Christmas even though I know you had the vacation time.” 

Liz doesn’t acknowledge that comment. Breezes right past it like the class A avoider she is. “You know why Papi can’t know. This secret, it’s dangerous.” 

“Isn’t it more dangerous for him not to know that I’m basically a live wire? That we have to live in fear of some secret government organization way worse than ICE showing up to take me away?” she asks. 

“Do you  _ really _ want to tell him?” she asks. 

Rosa rolls her eyes. “That I came back wrong? Of course not. But I still think it’s bullshit nobody thinks he can be trusted with the information.” 

Liz sighs again and there’s a clink of glass on the other end of the line that Rosa is 100% certain means Liz has pulled out a bottle of tequila and plans to down at least half of it in one sitting. It makes her itch for a bottle of her own. 

“It’s getting late,” Rosa says as her skin starts to feel too tight for her body and her mind starts obsessively telling her to go out in search of a fix. 

“I wish you would talk to somebody,” Liz says. 

“Like who, a shrink? What should I tell them? That I was brought back from the dead after 10 years like some fucking monster?” she spits out. “That my magical alien powers are a curse and are going to end up killing somebody much like I myself was killed by an alien?” 

“You could talk to somebody that knows,” Liz says. 

“I’m not talking to Max,” Rosa says with a snort. “I tried that and it crashed and burned just like I said it would.” 

“I don’t mean Max,” she says. “You could talk to Michael.” 

Rosa rolls her eyes. “You’re the second person to suggest that. Fuck that. I’m not talking to any of the aliens about this.” 

“Then you could talk to Kyle,” she says. “At least have him check you out to see if there’s anything medically that could be done.” 

“Fine, whatever. If it will get you off my back, I’ll talk to Valenti.” 

“I love you Rosa,” Liz says, sincerely. 

And though she pisses Rosa off more often than not, Rosa can’t help but grow soft as she says, “I love you too.” 

****

Kyle looks over some scans before looking back up at Rosa. “I don’t see anything medically wrong with you. At all. You’re the picture of perfect health, same as the last time I checked you out,” he says. 

“You can thank Max Evans for that,” she says bitterly. 

“Yeah, you should,” Kyle says with a pointed look that has Rosa rolling her eyes. She thought of anyone, Kyle would at least be on her side. After all, he has to hate Max given the hard on he still has for Liz. “Listen, I know the aliens aren’t perfect. They’ve made mistakes. But they are decent people who mean well and Max did a good thing bringing you back.”

Rosa snorts. “Why? What good has it done anyone to have me back?” she asks. 

Kyle doesn’t answer right away. He watches her carefully and it makes her squirm in her seat as she can feel electricity flow through her body, pushing its way to the surface. She wants to lash out in defense, but something about the way he’s analyzing her keeps her silent. 

“It did your sister a lot of good,” Kyle says carefully. “It did your father a lot of good. Your friends? Maria? Alex? People took your death really hard, Rosa. So hard that ten years after your death, they were still mourning you.” 

Rosa shakes her head, ever uncomfortable with the idea of people caring about her. She’s never figured out how to trust that people’s affection is genuine. 

“Max bringing you back was good for them,” he continues. “And though you may not want to admit it right now, it was good for you too. You have a whole future ahead of you now.” 

What a joke. What future does she have other than to end up dead from an overdose one of these days when she can no longer handle staying clean. 

“To do what?” she snaps, but it doesn’t phase Kyle. 

“Lucky for you and your perfect health, you have time to figure that part out,” he says as he pulls a prescription pad out of his pocket. 

“What are you doing?” she asks as he starts to write on the pad. She knows that he’s not writing her a script for a painkiller, but there’s still that little part of her that’s hopeful. 

“Writing you a prescription for an antidepressant and anti-anxiety med,” he says, signing his name before tearing it off and handing it to her. 

“What makes you think that’s gonna work this time?” she asks, taking the paper out of his hand carefully, staring at it. She’s been on meds before. It’s never done anything. Then again, it’s hard for any medication to be effective when she’s always chased them down with alcohol. 

“Because I think you want it to work this time,” he says, giving her a knowing smile. “I’ll want to see you back in a few weeks to see how they’re working out for you. We can keep changing the dosage until we find a balance that works for you.” 

“You know you were actually less annoying when you were still just a dumb jock,” she tells him, standing up and putting the prescription in her pocket. 

Kyle laughs as the dig bounces off him, not landing at all. 

“Try not to kill anyone in the meantime, okay?” he says. “I think once we get your meds evened out, it will help even out your powers.” 

“And how do you suggest I do that?” she asks. 

“You  _ can _ learn to control them, Rosa.” 

“How?” she asks. Doesn’t he think she’s tried that. It’s impossible. The electricity that runs through her refuses to be tamed. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But if the aliens could learn to control their powers as kids, you can do it at 20.” 

“Well they weren’t as fucked up as me,” she argues. 

Kyle makes a face before saying, “I don’t know about that. Isobel had trauma induced blackouts when she was a teenager so she had her own issues. If anyone were to diagnose Max, there’s no way he doesn’t come back with a depressive disorder. And Guerin? He and I have never been friends, but there were always rumors about him in school… He didn’t have it easy either growing up. Everyone’s got their own shit, Rosa. You don’t hold the patent on being a mess.” 

Rosa glares at him. “Why does everyone want me to talk to Guerin?” 

Kyle holds up his hand in surrender. “Did I suggest you talk to him? I didn’t say that,” he says carefully. “I just said you’d figure it out.” 

“Whatever.” She shrugs it off, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “So what do I owe you for this checkup of yours? You know un-murdered girls don’t exactly have valid insurance plans so…” 

“How about you just repay me with a sibling lunch every now and again?” he asks, giving her a smile that’s probably supposed to be charming. 

“You don’t want to go to lunch with me, I’m a disaster,” she tells him. 

“Yeah? Maybe I am too, you don’t know,” he challenges. And she smiles despite herself. 

“Fine. Whatever. But you’re paying,” she tells him. 

“Deal.” 

****

Rosa paces back and forth trying to take several steadying breaths while she hides upstairs in Maria’s office. Thankfully, the bar below hasn’t opened for the day, so the only people who’d witnessed her little light show had been friends, but she’d still needed a break. Needed to get away from everyone long enough to get her hands to stop sparking. She’s sick of being like this. Sick of being the person that can’t even go out without posing a risk to others. She’s lucky that her little lightning bolts hadn’t hit anyone. 

There’s a knock on the door and when she looks up to tell whoever’s come to bother her off, she’s a bit surprised to see Alex Manes leaning against the doorframe, smiling at her. She’d expected them to send Maria. Or worse, Max. 

“You know, it’s not that bad,” he says, causing her to snort. 

“Oh no? You don’t think Maria will mind that I destroyed part of her bar with my pyrotechnics?” she asks sarcastically. She feels awful. It’s not like she has any way to pay for the damages either. 

“Well the only thing in her bar that’s actually destroyed is that racist Indian chief sign that I for one will be happy to see go, so no,” he says, stepping further into the room and she takes several steps backward preemptively. She doesn’t know that he’ll try and touch her, but she doesn’t want to take the chance. Last thing she needs on her resume of horrors is to have electrocuted a damn war vet. 

“I just want to be alone,” she tells him, hoping he’ll leave. 

“I get that,” he says, taking a seat down on the couch in Maria’s office. So clearly he’s planning on staying awhile. She rolls her eyes. “Feeling like you break everything you touch? I can relate to that.” 

“Except you don’t literally break things,” she argues. “You don’t have tasers for hands.” 

“Well that’s true,” he relents. “And probably for the best. I wouldn’t be handling it with nearly the same grace as you.” 

She scoffs. Grace. Sure. Yeah. That’s what they’ll call it. 

“What do you want Manes?” 

She calls him by his last name, enjoying the way it makes him cringe. If he gets to poke and push at her, she can do it right back. Only, he doesn’t rise to the bait. Which is so unlike the kid she knew in high school. 

“To help,” he says seriously. Eyes full of an earnest energy that she can’t handle looking at so she turns her back to him. 

“How are  _ you _ going to help me?” she asks, shaking her head. It’s absurd. Alex isn’t an alien. He doesn’t have superpowers. What would he know about being a walking, talking weapon? 

“Kyle says your powers come out when you’re emotionally out of control,” he says and instantly she’s on edge, thinking that everyone is talking about her behind her back. Like she’s some problem they all have to solve. Like she’s another line item on their alien drama agenda that they’ve got to cross off before they can have their lives back. 

Fuck that. She doesn’t need their charity. She can figure her own shit out. 

“As someone that often feels emotionally out of control, I have some strategies you could try,” he says. 

“I don’t need help,” she snaps at him. “Go away.” 

Alex nods and stands up. She tries not to notice how he stands differently than he did in high school. Doesn’t think about how he honestly might be the only one that truly understands the shit she’s been through, having been through his own war. She doesn’t want to relate to him. She doesn’t want to trade stories or hear about his strategies. 

She just wants to be left alone with her own shit. 

“I understand,” he says and walks towards the door, pausing just before stepping out of the room. “You know who you could try talking to—” 

“Out!” She yells before he can even finish that sentence. 

“I’ll tell everyone to give you some space,” he says. “Come down when you’re ready.” 

****

Rosa sits on her bed crying silent, frustrated tears. She’s been trying to paint for the last half hour, but she can’t get her hands to settle. They’ve been lit up like a damn sparkler and nothing she does will get them to stop. She’s already done all of the breathing exercises. She’s taken her antidepressant for the day. The only thing left for her to try isn’t an option. At least, not without breaking her sobriety and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that. 30 days clean from the last fuck up and she’s determined to prove she can make it to at least 60 this time. 

“Mija?” Papi says through the door, his voice full of concern. 

“Go away,” she calls, hoping he’ll listen. She doesn't want him to see her like this, it’s embarrassing. She doesn’t want to take the risk of hurting him either. 

“Déjame entrar,” he pleads. “Let me help.” 

“I don’t want help, I just want to be alone,” she says, and even she can admit that it’s obvious by her voice that she’s crying. So she can’t be all that surprised when her papi ignores her and opens the door anyway. She shoves her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie so that he won’t see. 

He moves to sit beside her and she scoots further away, terrified that she’s going to zap him. He just looks at her with concern. 

“It’s not good to be alone,” he tells her. “Háblame. Dime que está mal.” 

That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? She  _ can’t _ tell him what’s wrong. 

“I can’t,” she says. “No lo entenderías.” 

“I wouldn’t understand?” he says, really playing up how offended he is by the idea. He reaches out to put his hand on her shoulder. She jumps at the touch, but thankfully, that’s all her body does. “Mija, I’m your father. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.” 

“Estas seguro de eso?” she asks with a humorless laugh. 

“Yes,” he says seriously. “I  _ am _ sure. Tell me what’s bothering you. Por favor.”

Rosa shakes her head and continues to cry. Her papi wraps his arm around her and pulls her in close until her head is resting on his shoulder. She wants to reach out and wrap her arms around him. To pull him close and ground herself in something solid, but she can’t risk pulling her hands out. 

“Shhh, little mouse,” he whispers. “Está bien. I’m here.” 

She cries on his shoulder for another few minutes before she’s able to get herself under control and pull away. She needs to wipe her eyes. She’s sure that her eyeliner is all the way down her cheek, but once again, she can’t pull her hands out. Not until they stop crackling. 

“Why don’t I make us some churro pancakes?” he asks, giving her a soft smile. 

Rosa rolls her eyes fondly. “You know food doesn’t fix everything Papi.” 

“Well how can you know if you don’t try?” he asks, standing up and holding out his hand for her. 

She stands up, refusing to take his hand, keeping her hands shoved in her front pocket. She walks out of the room ahead of him and heads downstairs. It’s late. Well past closing, but if she’s being honest with herself, she is pretty hungry. She’d skipped dinner earlier and churro pancakes sound good. 

Her papi goes behind the counter to start pulling out the ingredients for pancakes while she walks over to the jukebox. She turns her back away from the counter and pulls her hands out of her pockets, relieved to see they are no longer crackling. Breathing a sigh of relief, she reaches out and turns on some Counting Crows so they don’t have to sit down here in silence, inviting conversation. Rather, she can sing along and attempt to avoid any further questions. 

It works. Or, it works at least as long as it takes him to finish cooking and plate a batch of pancakes. He places hers in front of her and sits beside her. 

“¿Por qué no te digo lo que sé?” he says and her eyes immediately fly to his. 

What does he mean he can tell her what he knows? What could he possibly already know? 

“I know that you died in a car crash over eleven years ago and yet, here you are. A miracle,” he starts off. “I know that last year our restaurant was shot up while your sister was working downstairs and even though nobody was hurt, I found a uniform with a hole in it and more than ketchup stained all over it.”

Rosa’s eyes go wide but she does her best not to react to what he’s telling her. His conspiratory smile, however, tells her she’s clearly failing. He can’t honestly know about aliens, can he? He would have said something. 

“I don’t know anything about that,” she lies and he gives her a knowing look. 

“Well what can you tell me about how my appliances keep getting fried with electrical surges that the power company can’t explain,” he asks. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’d been worried about this. Terrified that she would eventually do enough damage that he’d notice and ask questions. Her papi is a saint. He loves everyone and doesn’t hold a grudge. But there’s no way that he’d be able to accept her like this, right? If he sees her return from the dead as an act of God, surely he’ll see these powers as the devil’s work. 

“Why are you looking at me? Liz is the scientist in the family,” she asks, shifting around uncomfortably in her seat. 

“I’m not upset,” he says. “Te amo sin condiciones. I just want to understand.” 

He can’t tell her that he loves her unconditionally. He doesn’t know what the conditions are. But she’s looking into his eyes and he’s so sincere and Rosa is just so fucking tired of all the lies and secrets. She’s exhausted and has just enough chaotic energy left in her to be willing to burn the world to the ground around her if it means that she can just tell him the truth. To stop the lies and just be honest about the monster she’s become. 

“Ni siquiera sé por dónde empezar,” she admits. She’s so nervous that she can actually feel the electricity in her body clustering in her stomach and making her feel like she might throw up. 

“I find the beginning is usually a good place to start,” he says with a soft smile as he leans over and pours syrup on her pancakes. 

The beginning. Yes. But which beginning? Where does she start? She guesses the easiest place to begin is with somebody else’s story, and with what he already knows. 

“Um… you’re right,” she says, her voice shaky as her eyes start to water. “You would have found a hole in Liz’s uniform that day the Crashdown was shot. Because  _ Liz _ was shot.” 

She watches his reaction carefully. Watches the way his eyes widen and he takes a shaky breath, but notices specifically all the ways he doesn’t react. He isn’t overly angry or shocked. He’s not upset. Almost like he’d suspected as much and she’s simply confirming a truth that he hadn’t quite wanted to believe. 

“Max Evans was here with her that night, and he saved her life… Just like he saved mine,” she says. 

He nods his head slowly, the information sinking in, but his eyes are confused. “But… cómo? I don’t understand.” 

“Max Evans is an alien,” she says, not bothering with metaphors or half explanations like Liz had tried to give her when she’d first come back and had so many questions. 

His eyes grow wide and he starts looking around the restaurant like it’s going to somehow have answers for him. 

“Yeah, so he’s an alien and I guess I’m one now too,” she says quickly, hoping that perhaps he won’t catch it, but of course he does. 

“What?” 

She shifts around on her seat uncomfortably. “Yeah, well… it’s a long story. But when Max brought me back from the dead, he brought me back like him. So I’m the one who’s been frying your appliances. I’d offer to buy you new ones, but I think we both know that I’m the deadbeat daughter with no job so… I can’t replace them. Nor can I even promise it won’t happen again. So… that’s cool.” 

“I don’t care about the appliances, things can be replaced,” he says, rubbing her back. “Me preocupo por ti.”

She’s shocked by his complete non-reaction to the news that not only are there aliens, but that she’s become one as well. She studies him for a minute while he eats his pancakes, unfazed. 

“You already knew,” she says, though she can’t be sure that’s it. 

“I didn’t,” he says and she can see the honesty in his eyes. “But I suspected something. I have for a while. Maybe not aliens but…” he gestures around the restaurant. “It is Roswell. It’s both of the Evans kids. ¿Si?” 

“And Michael Guerin,” she says, not caring about keeping their secret. Not telling her papi sooner was never about their comfort or safety, it was about her own. She could give two shits about prioritizing the comfort and safety of the aliens who certainly hadn’t prioritized hers. 

Her papi nods his head and doesn’t say anything else. She eats some more of her pancakes and notices that the restaurant has gone quiet. The handful of songs she’d preselected have run out on the jukebox. Typically, silence makes her skin crawl, but here it’s nice. Knowing that her papi knows the worst of her now and hasn’t reacted negatively? She feels good. Strong. 

They finish their food and he gathers up their plates. 

“So Elizabeth, she’s like you?” he asks, standing up to take the plates to the back. She moves to follow him. Now that they’ve eaten, there’s really no reason to stay down here. And it’s late. He’s got an early shift. She’s kept him up late enough with her drama. She should let him get some rest even if she’s not about to sleep. 

“No. She wasn’t…” she trails off, not sure where to even start with explaining the pods and how she got infused with that damn protein. It’s late. He can hear the whole story later if he’s interested. “It was different with her.” 

He pushes into the kitchen ahead of her and instantly it's like time stills and everything begins to happen in slow motion. Her papi slips and begins to fall backwards as their plates go flying into the air. At the same time, water meets her slippered feet, soaking them through. She reaches out to catch him, but he’s already got his arms out to try and catch himself. Stumbling under the weight of him, they both end up on the floor, Rosa just barely managing to stop his head from hitting the ground hard. 

“What the fuck? Papi, you good?” she asks, sitting up, grimacing as she realizes that her clothes are soaked through with water. The kitchen has flooded. 

She hears a gasp and when she looks over all she sees is blood. 

“¡Papi!” she yells, immediately reaching out and searching for the source of the blood. There’s a butcher knife, the big kind that they use to cut meat, on the floor, stained red. He’s holding his side and there’s blood pouring out between his fingers where he’s trying to stop the bleeding. 

“You pulled it out! Don’t you know you’re not supposed to pull it out! ¡Oh dios mío!” she says as she grabs a towel off of the counter and pushes his hand out of the way so she can try and press on the wound herself. There’s a lot of blood and the wound is terrifyingly big. She can feel the energy in her body trying to make its way out as her fear grows overwhelming.

“Está bien,” he says, reaching out to hold onto her wrist as he tries to smile at her. It’s weak and she can see in the deep lines on his face that he’s in real pain. 

They need help. Immediate help or he might bleed out. She has to call somebody, but her phone is all the way upstairs and the landline is too far away and she doesn’t trust that she can let go right now. Then there's the ever present anxiety of what will happen to her father if they call 911 and ICE picks him up for something minor. 

“Breathe, mija, it’s okay,” he tries to soothe her and god does it make her feel like the biggest fuck up in the world. Here he is bleeding out in the middle of the gross flooded kitchen and he’s worried about comforting her. “Breathe.” 

She tries to take his advice. She takes several deep breaths as her energy pushes its way to the surface.

“Please, please, please,” she whispers to herself, begging her powers to stay under. If she electrocutes her papi right now, she will never forgive herself. The best thing to do would be to let go and keep her distance. Not cause any more harm. But his face has gone pale and the grip he has on her wrist is weak. She doesn’t think he could hold his wound closed on his own. 

“Help!” she screams out even though nobody is home and it’s well past time that anyone from the surrounding businesses would hear her. “Help!”

“Está bien,” he keeps repeating even as his voice grows more weak. Her brain is a mess of emotions and she can’t figure out what to do. She knows that he could die if she doesn’t figure out a way to help him soon, and rather than letting that propel her into action like it would with a fully functioning person, she’s paralyzed by it. A mess. A fucking mess. 

Her body starts to strain with the effort it’s taking her to keep her powers under. She grits her teeth as the lights above them start to flicker, but thankfully, she hasn’t shocked him yet. Her breathing becomes labored as her body begins to shake with all the energy moving through her. 

She’d always heard that people grow cold when they are dying, but her hands feel warm. Hot even. The energy pushes against her painfully and she screams out, shattering the lightbulbs in the room and plunging everything into darkness except for what little light filters in from the moon. 

She’s not sure what happens next except that the world goes black and the next thing she knows, her papi is shaking her awake, smiling down at her. 

She sits up quickly, her eyes going to his stomach where his shirt is stained red, but when she reaches out to push the fabric up, it doesn’t reveal a wound at all. Not even a scratch or a scar. As if she’d imagined the whole thing. Which… would be new. She’s used to psychotic breaks, but her hallucinations have always been auditory. 

“You were stabbed,” she whispers, almost a question. She’s unsure, despite the fact that she can see the bloodstain and the tear in the shirt. “What happened?”

“You,” he says with a smile. 

Rosa shakes her head. “No, no. You were stabbed and now you’re fine. That’s not possible.” 

She looks around the diner, expecting Max to pop out at any second with his magic Jesus healing hands to let her in on the joke. But nobody jumps out at them. They are alone. 

“Mija,” he says, giving her an amused smile that does nothing to calm her. “You were brought back from the dead. Your sister was shot and healed. You have been given extraterrestrial powers, and  _ this _ is what you find to be impossible?” 

She shakes her head. “Healing is Max’s thing. I just break things.” 

His shoulders drop and his eyes fill with a pity that annoys her. “Is that all you think of yourself?” 

“You know it’s true,” she snaps back, moving to stand up and cringing at how her clothes are soaked all the way through. 

Arturo stands up as well, not a wince of pain or discomfort. She doesn’t want to believe that she could have healed him, but the facts are right in front of her. The blood is still on his shirt along with the tear from where the knife cut through. And yet, he’s completely fine. Something happened to him and she’s the only one here. 

“You are more than the mistakes you’ve made,” Arturo tells him. “Eres la fuerza que has ganado con tus experiencias. Y eso es hermoso.” He picks up one of her hands in his and says, “if you have the power to break,” he picks up her other hand, “you also have the power to mend. God doesn’t make evil or good.” 

“God didn’t make me this,” she tells him, eyes watering but refusing to let his words sink in. “And I don’t want a life lesson, Papi.” She pulls her wrists out of his grip. “I just want to know what the hell happened.” 

“I was bleeding and in pain. You touched me and everything grew really warm for a minute, then the pain was gone,” he says. “You healed me.” 

Her brain flashes back to the moment her powers hadn’t been able to be held back any longer. Her hands had felt warm, and yet she hadn’t electrocuted him... “I told you—” 

“Healing is Max’s thing,” he finishes for her. “But you said Max gave you his powers.” 

She shakes her head. “Some stupid alien protein gave me these powers,” she says. “Max just brought me back.” 

“And now you brought me back,” he says with a wide smile. 

“It’s not possible,” she whispers, staring down at her hands in wonder, but unable to deny that the facts all line up. 

“A miracle,” he says. “ _ Mi  _ milagro.”

It’s not the first time he’s called her his miracle. But it’s the first time he’s said it that hasn’t felt like a slap in the face or a heavy weight on her shoulders. 

“I really healed you?” she asks. 

He pulls her into his arms and she lets him hug her tightly as he whispers into her ear, “Think of all the  _ good _ you could do.” 

“I don’t even know how I did it,” she says into his chest as she wraps her arms around him, grateful that he’s alright. 

“You’ll learn.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And yeah, she  _ could _ learn. That could be nice. To figure out a way to control her powers and use them for something productive rather than destructive? 

They separate and he pulls away, saying something about investigating the source of the flooding. It doesn’t take them long to figure out that the dishwasher is busted. They won’t make it past the first morning rush tomorrow if they can’t get it fixed. 

“I need to call Miguel,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

“Michael?” she asks, confused. “Guerin?” 

“He’s been fixing our appliances for years now,” he explains. “Refuses to let me pay him in anything but coffee and fries. He’s the only one that will come out this late.” 

She didn’t know that about Michael. Admittedly, she doesn’t know anything about him beyond the fact that he dated Maria, had some high school thing with Alex, and that he participated in the coverup of her murder. The last one had been reason enough to never bother getting to know the guy. 

He moves to press the call button and she reaches out to stop him. 

“Rosa—” he starts to say, expecting her protest, but that’s not why she stopped him. 

Sure, the aliens aren’t forgiven in the least. They did a shitty thing and she’s under no obligation to ever say that it’s okay. But perhaps they aren’t completely evil. And they could start doing their penance by teaching her to control her powers. At least, Guerin’s gotta be a better option than Max. 

“Let me,” she says, taking the phone out of his hand and pressing call. 

It’s a solid first step, and with it, she feels like she can breathe a little easier. 


End file.
